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[aethergreen]

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[sashaisready]

Starting Over: Chapter 1.5 - Before

Mob!Bucky x Female Reader

Series Masterlist

When Bucky throws you out of the house for a betrayal and won't listen to your side of the story, you know the only way out is through - it's time to start over. Maybe this was never going to be your happy ending. (Standalone series - not related to any other of my stories/characters)

Hello! I know I said this would be a 2 part series but this part of chapter 2 felt like it's own section, so I've created a mini chapter to bridge the two parts and keep us fed - this is a flashback. Part 2 still to come! Thank you all for the love and engagement you've given this story, as always reblogs and comments are appreciated!

💔

Around 18 months earlier…

This was the shift from Hell.

You must’ve accidentally cursed yourself; it was the only explanation for the non-stop chaos the day had wrought. Apologies to any magical being you may have offended.

The kitchen were somehow out of both maple syrup and hash browns. Roscoe must’ve messed up the inventory order again. The customers affected by this egregious error were certainly making themselves known when you broke the news, while Roscoe sheepishly hid back at the grill. You understood their anger, what kind of diner doesn’t have hash browns or maple syrup?! Sure, you shared their pain – but throwing a spoon at your head seemed unnecessary.

The soda machine had leaked all over your arm an hour into your shift and you couldn’t shake the sticky, goopy feeling no matter how many times you had washed your hands. Your shoe broke, the sole flapping against the floor with every step. A table who had spent their entire two hours there demanding an array of elaborate substitutions and ‘softer napkins’ stiffed you on the tip, despite you bending over backwards to help them out. You found yourself counting the minutes until you could clock out, go back to your shoebox apartment, and bury yourself in bed. Not long to go.

“Hon’, sorry…” Lou called out to you, in that tone he always used when he was breaking bad news, “I know you’re swamped – but can you take care of the gentleman in the corner booth? Marcy just went on break and I gotta cover her other tables and whip that jack-off in the kitchen into shape…”

You sighed wearily, you were due to clock off soon and were closing out your section. But you took a deep breath and nodded over at him, “alright, Lou, but only cos it’s you…”

“Thank-you Hon’,” he beamed at you gratefully, disappearing into the kitchen to go yell at Roscoe.

You wandered over to the corner booth Lou had pointed to, swallowing your frustration and fatigue. There was a man sitting by himself, his face obscured by the menu he held up to read. His fingers curled over the sides of the paper, littered with gold rings and scars. One of his hands seemed to be…metal? A strange glove, perhaps? You could see from the sleeves alone that the dark suit he wore was expensive. Not to mention what appeared to be diamond encrusted cufflinks…

Huh. You at least hoped you’d get a good tip out of him.

“Good afternoon, Sir, I’ll be taking care of you today,” you said sunnily as you pulled your notepad and pen from your apron. “What can I get you started with? Some coffee maybe?”

The man didn’t move. The menu remained upright. He was so still it wasn’t almost eerie. You briefly had a crazy thought that he may have died and nobody had noticed, then dismissing your silliness as quickly as it arrived. Besides, dealing with a corpse in the diner was the last thing you needed today.

A few beats passed, but he still didn’t respond. You cleared your throat and tapped your foot to alert him to your presence. Still nothing. You frowned, maybe he didn’t hear you. Maybe he had airbuds in or something.

“Sir…? Would you like to order?” you asked again, your tone a little more strained this time.

Silence. But you saw one of his fingers twitch so you knew he was still alive, at least.

You were used to rude customers, the ones who were outright hostile towards you, and the ones who treated you as if you weren’t there. This was nothing new. But the stress of your shift with the combined fuckery of everything that had gone wrong meant you were hanging on by a thread. Your usual hardiness and thick skin were weakened, and your customer service mask slipped.

“Look buddy…it’s incredibly rude to just ignore your waitress you know…” you snarkily told the hovering menu, “are you gonna order or what?”

You realised what you’d said too late, clapping your hand over your mouth as an amused chuckle came from behind the menu shield. Just as you went to apologise, the paper dropped to the table, revealing the mystery man behind it.

You blinked, a little stunned at the sight of him.

His chestnut brown hair was slicked back into a perfect bun, complimenting the light dusting of stubble on his cut-glass jawline. Pouty pink lips curled into a smirk as his large, bulky frame manoeuvred in the booth to get a better look at you. But you were most struck by his eyes, so blue and piercing that you could drown in them. Better women than you probably had.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I-” you flustered.

“Don’t be,” replied the man commandingly, his voice low but soft, “you were right. That was rude of me, I’m very sorry. I was lost in my own world there for a moment. I hope you can accept my apology”.

You gawped at him, surprised at his reaction. You felt your face flush with embarrassment. “Uh…yeah. Sure. Sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped at you; it’s just been a long day…” you admitted sheepishly.

He nodded and studied you carefully, his gaze sweeping you from tip to toe. It felt exposing to be looked at like that, but you couldn’t deny the hint of a thrill it gave you too.

“Well, I’m sorry to have added to it,” he smiled at you.

And what a smile. A knee-weakening smile. All white teeth and warmth. And maybe something…darker?

“My name is Bucky. Bucky Barnes…” he extended a hand towards you to shake, his smile dangerous yet enticing, “Doll, I’d love to hear yours…”

💔

[magicalgoblinz]

One Thing

Summary: You did it. Cazador's dead and now... Astarion is finding himself working through some big emotions. Pairing: Astarion x gn!reader Word Count: 3.5 k Warnings: General angst, eluding to physical, emotional, and sexual abuse. Possibly ooc Astarion. Quickly edited. Song Recommendation: Never Let Me Go + Florence and the Machine Author's Note: First thing I've ever written for Astarion but I get the feeling it won't be the last. I really genuinely just wanted to get this idea out of my brain even if it's a bit strange and not all that amazing haha.

It had been a long day. Perhaps one of the longest you and your party had endured yet, or... at least it felt that way. It wasn't hard on your body like the goblin fight had been, nor had it been arcanely exhaustive like chasing that damned hag was. No, standing in the halls of Cazador's palace brought a different type of exhaustion. Passing through the spaces that your lover had once stalked attempting to go unseen by his master, seeing the sights of the spaces he was kept, smelling the decay, the putridness that no doubt lingered in the meals he was forced to partake in.

Every sight, smell, and sound you had come across weighed heavily on you. Even now as you sat in the plush comfort that was Elfsong Inn, freshly washed, the scents lingered in your nose and left a bitter taste in your mouth.

You pushed around the hastily prepared hash in your bowl, frown bared for everyone to see. Your thoughts were only for him. Every second of silence you could hear his sobs in that moment. The cries pulled from his very core, the kind of cries you could imagine he had dreamed of releasing for so long through every moment of torture he was subjected to. There was no way to imagine all of the atrocities he had suffered, yet somehow being left with nothing made every idea that flitted past your mind's eye so much worse.

You for so long had wished to weep for him. Weep for the time he had lost. Weep for the pain he must have felt in having to stand on the outside wondering if his family and friends ever thought of him again after he passed on. Weep for the crushed hopes for the future he had at one time had.

But what good would your tears do him now?

Cazador was dead.

And more importantly... Astarion was free.

So why did it all still feel so... excruciatingly heavy?

"Ts'ka --- eat and do not play. You need your strength for tomorrow." Lae'zel pushed from her lounging position on the floor.

"Have some heart, Lae'zel. It’s been a very difficult day." Wyll was quick to defend upon seeing the way your expression soured at the thought of eating. "Y/n, had to assist our resident vampire through some very hard things today. Including walking through where he had been kept prisoner. Imagine having to do the same with your lover." He said with a gesture towards Lae'zel.

"If I had a lover they would be able to care for themselves; it would be the first thing I looked for in a mate. A prowess to stay alive in battle like my own is the only thing that is truly attractive." Lae'zel said with a lifted chin.

Wyll's lips parted as if to say something more but began to shake his head, there was no fighting with La'zel. She didn't dig her heels in when it came to opinions, no her entire feet were buried. "Speaking of Astarion, where is he?" He eventually asked, changing the focus of the conversation.

"I believe he went for a bath." Shadowheart interjected, "He said something about not being able to stand having his beauty mired... you know how he is." She said, not lifting her eyes from her bowl with a small wave of her spoon that was held in delicate fingers.

Her saying this seemed to pull your eyes towards the door of the wash room. It had been a while since he left now that you thought about it. Your brows lowered a bit in thought; Astarion deserved his space right now, but you still couldn't help but want to hold his hand and not let it go after everything that had happened today. Maybe he wouldn't want that though, not with what you did today.

That look in his eyes...

Now that he had the time to actually think about what you did, what you talked him into doing; would he feel betrayed?

You had promised him you'd help him get that power he so desired, but when that chance came you changed your mind.

The idea of Astarion no longer trusting you hurt more than imagining him ending whatever it was the two of you had. The worries made your expression sullen even more, looking down at your bowl with a deeper pit growing in your stomach. Did you really want to find out?

Out of the blue, there is a light nudge to your arm. The little touch is enough to pull you back up from your descent into grieving something you hadn't even lost yet. With a glance to your right you find Karlach with a bottle outstretched to you. "I think we could all use a little drink tonight... but especially Astarion." She said warmly, "Perhaps you should see if he wants some?" She continued with a little jerk of her head towards the closed doors. Her tone made it all to clear that your inner turmoil was written out on your face for everyone to see.

A sigh escaped your throat as you debated on whether or not that was a good idea but the way Karlach began to lazily swing the bottle back and forth with her hand triggered something in your mind that made you reach out and take it in one smooth movement.

It couldn't hurt to check in on him?

Could it?

Astarion's head was rested back, hanging over the edge of the bath he sat in. The water had lost the majority of its warmth, and his hand had pruned but he made no movements to get out. Eyes transfixed on the dancing flames in the fireplace at the side of the room. Every twist of orange and lift of a spark made his mind lurch through another memory; they all seemed to be coming back to him now, one by one. His mind shuddered from the thought of a blade pressed into his skin, carving, etching, his skin becoming the canvas for a dastardly design that he wouldn't understand for years.

Funnily, the recollection of pain wasn't what bothered him. It was having to recall his own voice struggling not to escape his lips throughout the entire gut-wrenching experience that made his hand ball into a fist.

With a pop and crackle of the wood Astarion's memories would carry on to something else.

His ears ringing, echoing the silence of that tomb. Gods above that tomb. That year spent in silence. Those months spent starving. The way his hands bled from trying ever so desperately to escape. Over what...? A boy that he couldn't bear to steal the life away from.

Astarion took in a sharp breath as he tried to shake away the thought, as he sat up.

But still the memories continued to bleed through. The faces of all those people he had brought to Cazador, he could see them in his mind's eye. The memories of bedding some of them, cycling through his head in a complete sequence even though they were spread across centuries. A flash of a young human woman who excitedly spun in a brand new red dress that she was ever so excited to show off. The pale blue of a nervous elf man's eyes as they darted around the room the second Astarion approached. Seeing the tattoos and the scars spread across the back of a dwarven sailor who stretched after returning to the mainland after a long voyage. The shine of a coy tiefling woman's smile as she attempted to steal his coin purse from his pocket. So many lives, so many people. At what point did he begin to stop caring? Who was it that he pulled by the wrist back to a dreary room that made him start drifting away any time he had to become intimate? Or was it any of them at all?

His features twisted into an expression of disgust the second his mind started going down that path. There was no amount of Cazador being dead that made those memories better. In a snap his balled up hands lifted to rub his eyes in annoyance. If only Astarion could wash out his eyes and his mind and start anew. If only.

And to think... he had wanted this for so long.

He had dreamt about the day he'd be able to have the cathartic feeling of stabbing Cazador, again, and again, and again. And now that it had come and gone... he wished he could have kept going forever. Fuck, he wished he had. After everything Cazador had done to him, the bastard deserved so much worse than to bleed out on that cold floor. He deserved to suffer just as much as Astarion had, if not more.

Astarion couldn't help but wish that he had ignored everyone and continued the ritual as a perfect slap in the face to Cazador. Continued that ritual, so for the first time in all these years... he'd be safe. Entirely safe. And the loss of that made his chest ache, he was so close to crying all over again.

But then...

Tap, tap, tap

"Astarion," Your voice started from just beyond the doors. "I'm sorry to bother you. I just um... wanted to check in. Karlach thought you might need a drink."

There was you.

Astarion's head lifted from his hands as he took in a deep breath. He tried to shove all those emotions back down again, to put the cork back in the bottle before they could really bleed out into him properly. His gaze lingering on the door, lips unmoving.

"Didn't you hear him? If you complete the ritual, you'll be consumed, Astarion." You had said with a look of sincere terror in your eyes. The look wasn't foreign to him... but perhaps different? People had been scared of him before, oh people had been terrified once they realized what he was. But just how many people had been scared for him? That... he didn't know.

He couldn't remember his exact words in reply now, the tension and adrenaline leaving them in a silent part of his mind but what he did recall was the way you looked at him. It stung. It stung so much more than the little voice in the back of his mind screaming that you were breaking your promise.

You promised to help him ascend. You swore you would help him ascend. You said---

Gods that look. Astarion couldn’t shake it.

The way your eyes seemed to plead with him before you had even opened your mouth. Begging him to reconsider. "I know you think this will set you free, but it won't." Your voice was so gentle, but still so desperate. "This power will trap you, just like it trapped Cazador. Is that really what you want?"

You were right, as much as he hated it. You were always right.

But more than that. As he thought about it now, he recognized something that he hadn't in that moment...

Just outside the door you stood listening, hoping to hear something, anything. Your thumb fumbled with the cork of the bottle nervously. This was a bad idea wasn't it? He needed more time. This was too soon to try and come see him. Gods... what if he really did hate you for what you did. You started to shake your head, "...I'm going to take that as a no. I'll um..." you started lightly, trying not to have your worry show through in your words. "I'm sorry again for interrupting. I'll see you when you're finished, my darling."

Once more. You wanted to call him that one more time before he had a chance to break things off.

"Come in."

Your eyes couldn't help but widen ever so slightly, hand moving to the handle before cautiously pushing the door open and poking your head in. From this angle you could see Astarion's side profile, the good majority of the grime and blood from the day having been washed away, though his clothes that sat off to the side on a bench, were stained a deep red that would take ages to remove, if it ever came out at all. His eyes soon looked your way tiredly. As an instinct you quickly held up the bottle you had brought him, no words coming to follow it, they all seemed to have gone into hiding the second his eyes landed on you.

"Are you planning on bringing the bottle here my sweet, or to just... swing it around like an idiot?" He asked in a long drawn out way, a tone that felt like he was trying to maintain a sense of normalcy for you, but at this point in your adventure together the look in his eyes was more than enough to tell you that he was working through something.

You were entirely taken aback by the gentle name used, a little bit of relief seeping into your chest. "Y-you want me to come in?"

"Was that not what I said?"

Your lips parted, deciding not to speak just yet and instead closing the door behind you. "I'm sorry... I just didn't want to overstep with you, you know… washing and all." You said slowly, acting as if you weren’t both adults – who had on more than occasion – slept together.

Even now, even after seeing him at his lowest today, you were still trying to respect whatever boundaries he had. The thought made Astarion close his eyes and let out a soft laugh, "Darling, you've seen me naked before, it's fine." He assured, "Now...please, for the love of gore and everything soaked in blood, can you bring me that bottle."

There was no reluctance now, carrying yourself to his side with ease. As you approached you couldn't help but notice that his hair was still matted thick with blood in places. All this time he clearly had just been lost in his thoughts as much as you expected really. His hand reached up the second you drew near, taking the bottle from your hands greedily, popping the cork and taking a decidedly long drink. Not minding you at all as you reluctantly found a seat on the bench his clothes were rested upon.

The sight of his nose scrunching a bit from the taste of the wine made an ever so small smile tug at the corner of your mouth. It was hard not to recall him making that same face at the tiefling party not so long ago. Vinegar for wine. Would there be a day when the wine you brought him didn't elicit that involuntary response?

Astarion glanced at you from the corner of his eye, "You'd have made an excellent vampire, you know." He said with an amused little grin, all happy to see the confusion cover your features.

"Why is that?"

"Asking to come in, obviously." He joked loosely,

A small laugh left your lips as your eyes drifted to the floor, "I didn't realize that respecting people's privacy was so vampiresque."

"It's not, we're atrociously nosey by nature and well... it's just another fun hindrance to go against that nature I suppose." Astarion spoke in his normal moseying draw. 

"I see..."

There was a breadth of silence between the two of you. A silence that carried the heaviness of the day's events. You knew it needed to be said, but it didn't make it any easier to consider what the exact words were that needed saying. How to broach it? What if he didn’t want to talk about it at all and you misread the situation entirely? You kept glancing his way hoping to have it all come together in your mind like some sort of epiphany, yet he beat you to it.

"I'm not upset with you, darling. You don't have to keep looking at me like that." Astarion spoke suddenly with all the ease in the world.

"You're not?"

"Well,  perhaps I was a little at first. You did go back on your word, after all." Astarion pointed out, eyes now fixed on the bottle in his hand. “I think anyone might be a bit… sour after something like that.”

There was the guilt again. "Astarion... I'm sorry, I---"

"I don't want your apologies." He cut in sharply, finally turning his gaze to look your way.  Despite what his tone may have indicated, his eyes weren't as stern as they normally appeared when he was upset. No, they were instead ever so full of sadness.  "...I-I'm not angry with you. I swear it. But what I don't understand is why I don't feel any fucking better." Astarion said as his voice suddenly sounded so much more fragile. "I... I killed him. I got the revenge I've dreamed about for two-hundred fucking years. The same revenge I begged for the whole year I was locked in that horrid tomb." He hissed, "I took back my life and yet I... I feel like I didn't do enough."

He was cracking. That much you could see.

"I can't help but wonder if I had completed the ceremony if that would have been enough. Enough to rub it in his Gods damned face that I did it." Astarion admitted sternly, lifting his chin as his eyes stayed focused on the bottle still, "Watch this worm take away everything from him like he took everything from me." He mumbled out, the heat leaving his voice for a brief second as all that he was left with was glassy eyes.

"...I-I would have never had to fear anyone or anything ever again..." Astarion uttered through clenched teeth, tears finally breaking free and running down his cheeks one at a time. "...and now it's gone."

Wordlessly you got to your feet, taking a few steps forward to close the gap between you both, leaning down to wrap your arms around his neck in the most comforting hug you could possibly muster. His hand immediately finds your arm, holding it tight as for the second time in your journey, he begins to cry.

Silence seems to be what Astarion needed from you, wailing into the open air as everything he has stuffed away into that bottle comes pouring back out. No apologies. No consoling words. Just for you to hold him, to give him time. His head rests against yours almost as if to ensure that even now, after everything you both had been through, you couldn't see him cry. Perhaps the idea of you seeing it happen twice in a day was too much for him. Or perhaps there was still a festering feeling of weakness that would bubble up if he let you see him cry.

"Oh my sweet, sweet, Astarion." You mumbled holding him tighter than before, listening as his sobs grew softer over the passing moments. 

Waiting. Listening.

Once his frame had stopped shaking you finally raised your voice once more . "...if I could Astarion, I would take away all of the hurt in an instant... but I can't. And I wish you knew just how much it pains me to not be able to." You speak, parting your lips to continue on but pause as you feel a familiar shudder resonate through your mind. He was peering in, confirming the statement for himself it seemed. "The most I can do is promise you something..." you continued on, pretending like you weren't aware of poking around, you had nothing to hide for one key reason…

Gently you pulled back, running your hand from his neck to his chin to tilt his head up. Eyes looking over his tear stained cheeks and then to meet his own shimmering red eyes. "I promise you that, as long as I'm here you will never have to fear anything... or anyone again." You assured, thumbs brushing over his cheeks as you wipe away his remaining tears. “Because Astarion… I love you and… I will never let you go.”

The look that fills Astarion's eyes is something that you had only seen once before when you decided to hug him for the first time back in the Shadowlands. It was a look that spoke numbers towards just how frightening the unknown was for him. How terrifying it could be to have someone love you so truly and want nothing in return for the first time in his life.

You feel a rush of surprise followed by so overwhelming, your lips curl into the same smile you gave him then as you had reached out to wrap your arms around him to hold him tight…

You know the feeling even if he can’t say it yet.

Love.

Because that was the thing. Astarion had realized before this that you… well, you were the only good thing that he’s ever had. That he’d do just about anything to keep you safe and ensure that no one dare take you away from him. Yet, strangely he never once considered…

That he might mean just that much to you.

End Notes: Thank you so much for reading! I'd really love to start writing for Astarion more so if you have any ideas send them over <3

[stereopticons]

On This Day in Schitt's Creek: June 5

2019

Fake Fake Boyfriends [david/patrick, G, 5,571] by hollybibble

David feels like he’s in Act I of one of his favorite rom coms when he and Patrick are together. Just as he’s beginning to think he has a chance, Patrick tells him that he needs a fake boyfriend to show Rachel once and for all that they are through. David knows how this turns out in the movies and is thrilled...until he learns that Patrick has someone other than David in mind to play the role. And it's Ted. Trigger warning: Patrick wears a green shirt. This diverges from canon after the Friends and Family episode (3.12).

The Little Things About You [david/patrick, G, 1,221] by @play-detectives

The moments that make David and Patrick fall in love with each other all over again. Inspired by this post: https://imbrokelyn99.tumblr.com/post/185377029217/let-me-relaxwill-comment-later

Wash Away My Misery [david/patrick, NR, 2,539] by deathbysandblk

Prompt is a line taken from this post: https://makeyourlivesextraordinary.tumblr.com/post/174195970894/guess-who-loves-aus It is: "I have no idea how to work this washing machine, can you help me"

What You're Told [patrick/rachel, G, 1,404] by @aokayinspace

Patrick is a pitcher for his high school baseball team. Rachel is his best friend. Through influences from locker room culture, Patrick starts to wonder why Rachel is just his friend, and not his girlfriend. Inspired by Tiff Song by Noah Reid

worth waiting for... [david/patrick, T, 748] by @startswithhope

Here’s another short chapter of my missing kisses series. This isn’t a kiss we missed, but in my opinion we just saw the beginning of it. ;) Set at the end of “Girls’ Night”.

2020

Can't Argue With That [david/patrick, G, 602] by @delilah-mcmuffin

Patrick and Ronnie agree to say one nice thing to one another.

Have another drink, get lost in us [david/patrick, E, 1,866] by @kiwiana-writes

“You okay, David?” he asks carefully, and David looks a little glassily at him. “I’m so good, baby,” he says, very slowly, like he’s concentrating on every word. Or, the first time David gets wine drunk in front of Patrick.

That's Television's Mom to You [alexis & moira, G, 1,087] by bigficenergy

Moira and her bébés in missing moments leading into the next big steps of their lives.

there's nothing that I wouldn't do (it's not the way I planned it) [stevie/alexis, T, 2,381] by skatingsplits

Stevie Budd is no stranger to the legendary hangover. The one after her eighteenth birthday party where she devoured forty-six hash browns in under five minutes and then immediately passed out in the Elmdale McDonalds’ parking lot was pretty notable, as was that time in Vancouver where she woke up floating in a still-warm bathtub in a swimming costume that wasn’t hers. And then there was the infamous Memorial Day tailgate- although, does it actually count as a hangover if you have to get your stomach pumped? She isn’t sure but one thing is for certain; in the story of a life liberally sprinkled with agonising headaches and the unslakeable desire to simultaneously have her stomach surgically removed and ingest a dozen bakeries’ worth of carbohydrates, the morning after David and Patrick’s wedding is definitely going to deserve its own chapter.

Trying to Make Sense Out of this Confusion [david/sebastien, T, 70,722] by lucianowriter

After his first successful show, David's father isn't entirely impressed with David's business sense. So, he hires Patrick Brewer. As they go along David finds himself trusting Patrick in ways he's never trusted anyone, which unnerves him. They are both in relationships that don't make them happy and they feel something between themselves, but they aren't quite sure what it is.

2021

[Podfic] Stay on the scene like a sex machine [david/patrick, E, podfic] by @kiwiana-writes

David’s never pretended that Patrick’s competence and assertiveness don’t do it for him in a big way. Well, he’s never pretended to himself at least. And, really, how the fuck could he be expected to concentrate on anything when there’s a brand-new fucking machine where his coffee table usually sits? ********** David has a fantasy. Patrick makes it happen. Podfic of Stay on the scene like a sex machine by redwineandqueer.

Boyfriend [david/patrick, G, poem] by elifisher96

Boyfriend.I have a boyfriend.

Free As My Hair [david/patrick, T, 1,584] by @olrhys

“You really have beautiful hair,” Patrick said softly after a few moments, carding his fingers through it and causing a tingle to go up David’s spine. “Thank you,” David replied, mortified at how breathy his voice sounded. Or, sometimes you drive by someplace called Patty’s Barbershop and then go home and write 1500 words about it.

Lucky Number Nine [david/patrick, T, 6,006] by eringiles

How can people find enjoyment in men wrestling each other to the muddy ground and scrabbling around for a dirty ball?' Patrick agrees to play in a charity game of rugby, but the problem is, no one told his husband that rugby involved lots of mud and violent hugging (tackling).

Real Life Fairytale [david/patrick, E, 9,205] by @blackandwhiteandrose

Marcy was trying to pick her words carefully. “Mothers just… want to know things. I see you two together, and I’m so glad that you have this wonderful thing, but I don’t know how you got… here.” “We know you got into business together, you told us all about the store when we had breakfast after your birthday. And we love those updates, of course. But I think what your mother is saying… is she wants the scoop.” Clint turned to Marcy, his eyebrow quirked as he checked to see if his appraisal was correct. She nodded. “I do. I want all the details.” ----- Shortly after Patrick's birthday party, he and David make a trip to visit Clint and Marcy... and everyone learns more about David and Patrick's love story.

saying yes (instead of no) [harry potter/draco malfoy, E, 21,029] by Pineau_noir

“It’s a general store that’s also a very specific store,” Draco grumbled. “Most people won’t realise this, but I want to market Muggle goods to the Wizarding world as well. I want something that will help boost the economy of the Hamlet and Muggles have so many amazing things we don’t have.” Draco sighed again. “I think it would benefit everyone.” He glared at Emily. “But there’s not a single witch, wizard, or wix who will shop at a place owned by Draco Malfoy.” “What if it’s owned by Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy?” Potter asked. “That would be preposterous,” Draco mumbled. “Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy would kill each other before the store opened.” “What if you didn’t?” Emily asked. Draco opened his mouth to let her know, they would indeed kill each other, but before he could say anything, she continued, “What if it turned into a lovely business?” “There’s only one way to know,” Potter said. “I really think this is a good idea, Draco."

so gorgeous it actually hurts [david/patrick, E, 2,547] by LFTPD

They’ve been married long enough that the days all start to blend together, warm and comforting in their familiarity. So Patrick can’t say for sure when it was that he glanced over and caught the first hints of gray at David’s temples, when he first became aware of the gray hairs speckling the stubble on his cheeks. All he knows is that at some point he noticed, and ever since he’s been doing his very best to keep his mouth shut about how much he likes it.

2022

breakaway [david/patrick, E, 5,453] by @blackandwhiteandrose

This is not how he imagined the day going. Patrick had been practically vibrating with excitement over the game, eager to get some time on the ice for a good cause. David wanted to watch Patrick play, then go out to celebrate with his teammates before heading home, just the right amount of buzzed for loud, tipsy sex. OR Hockey!Patrick and his Very Good Husband.

i'll be by your side, even if i'm not next to you [david & alexis, T, 1,601 + podfic] by Amanita_Fierce @landofsonlali

david and alexis haven't always been close, but they have always talked to each other. it's easy to have an open line of communication when you share a telepathic bond with your sibling. a story told in three parts.

Stranger in My Bed [david/patrick, M, 28,437, CW: violence, rape/non-con/dub-con] by Criticallly_Reviewed

The pain in his face would fade, he knew this to be true. Through the countless years, and numerous incidents, it was the one thing that remained a constant; the pain would fade. Or Patrick Brewer is in an abusive marriage with Sebastien Raine, until one night he has had enough and runs away to Schitt's Creek where he meets David Rose and learns what true love really is.

Working Out [david/patrick, M, 8,755] by @wordthieve

Patrick has just started working out at a new gym, and he keeps noticing this guy ... Inspired by the "I'm in love with my gym bro" reddit thread.

You Might Say I'm Here for You [clint & patrick, G, 3,260] by @weathereyehorizon

Patrick and David take a weekend trip to The Brewers' prior to the wedding. Patrick and Clint have some important conversations and Clint witnesses his son's happiness first hand. Or 5 questions Patrick doesn't ask Clint and one that he does

2023

The True Story of David Rose [Draft Article] [david/patrick, T, 7,053] by @68henley @lizzie-bennetdarcy

“David was my muse; he was so broken, shattered, flawed, and there was a tragic beauty in that, and I was able to capture it. David was so very, very fragile, and he was unable to accept my needs, what had to happen to keep my creativity flowing. If I’d known how hard it would be for him after we parted ways, I would have worked harder to keep him with me. I found him, a few years after we broke up, barely a shell of himself, virtually homeless in a backwater town. He was hostile, clearly still not over our breakup, struggling. I don’t know where he is now or what’s become of him. I wish I knew, but honestly, I’m afraid to find out. It sounds strange, but I truly fear he no longer exists.”Unlike Mr. Raine, we weren’t afraid to dig into what happened to Mr. Rose, and based on what we found, we’d guess Mr. Raine would be surprised. After comments from Sebastien Raine made in connection to a new show featuring old pictures of David, Vanity Fair decides to follow up and find out what really happened to David Rose.

2024

A Closet in Disa-Ray [david/patrick, T, 2,466] by @mostlyinthemorning

Patrick called David his boyfriend and David has plans to show Patrick how much that means to him. Unfortunately, Ray also has plans…of a very different nature.

Oil Be Seeing You [david/patrick, M, 3,854] by @delilah-mcmuffin

Set immediately after The Crowening. After spending the afternoon outdoors doing the tree-walk (of death) with Ted and Alexis, David and Patrick head back to Ray's for some much needed rest and maybe a frisky little massage. Ray is out for the day, so what could go wrong? Except that Ray comes home early and gets a bit of an eyeful of a very naked David. Part of the Naked & Af-Ray-ed series exploring the times that Ray sees David in a state of undress. Fics are in as close to chronological order as we could manage. And are not inter-related unless otherwise specified by the author(s).

Pink [david/patrick, E, 100] by @ramonaflow

Stats:

No fanworks for 2017 or 2018 2019: 5 fics/11,483 words 2020: 5 fics/76,658 words 2021: 7 fanworks (5 fics, 1 podfic, 1 poem)/40,692 words 2022: 5 fanworks (4 fics, 1 fic/podfic combo)/47,506 words 2023: 1 fic/7,053 words 2024: 3 fics/6,420 words Total: 26 fanworks (23 fics, 1 podfic, 1 poem, 1 fic/podfic combo)/189,812 words

[hswriting]

Inked Souls - Part 6

[Image Alt ID: a three picture collage with a white background. The first photo is of a book page that reads “and I will kiss every single scar on your body and soul to remind you that love doesn’t have to hurt”. The second picture is of Harry Styles. The picture is black and white. Harry is wearing a black long sleeved shirt, with the sleeves rolled up. He is holding a microphone on a microphone stand. He is looking down at the floor. The final picture is of a hand holding up a key ring full of silver keys. End Alt ID]

- - -

Masterlist Series Part 5 (Series Completed)

- - -

2.4k words

- - -

Joey and Harry have decided to go and see if his dad is back after so many years of being absent.

(Note: sorry if this seems so fragmented. I wanted to separate this into two parts but I felt I didn’t have enough in each part and it tried to put the ideas together. It’s also a shorter part. I really hope you enjoy!)

When I wake up, Harry is already awake and gone from my bed. I look around and don’t see within the room. I rub the sleep from my eyes and get out of bed.

I change into a fresh set of clothes and walk out into the kitchen and living room area.

I see Harry at the stove cooking something that smells amazing.

“Morning.” He says to me. I walk over to the coffee machine and make a cup.

“Morning Har.” I say to him.

“You hungry?” He asks me and I nod. He dishes me out some scrambled eggs and hash browns onto a plate. “I couldn’t sleep too well, so I thought I’d try to do something productive.”

“Still nervous?” I ask him as he sits down with me to eat. I look at his plate. Very little food on it, but some is better than none I guess.

“Yeah. I’m not super hungry but I know I need to eat since I didn’t really eat yesterday.” He says, stabbing at a chunk of egg. I give him a small smile. I can’t even imagine what is going through his brain.

We finish up our plates. While Harry gets ready for the day, I wash the breakfast dishes. When he comes back out, I see his hands trembling. I walk over to him after drying my hands and hold his. I plant soft kisses to his knuckles.

“Are you ready to go?” I ask him softly. He nods at me and leads us to the car.

I drive since I can already see Harry getting nervous. The closer we get, the more he can’t sit still. His leg bounces rapidly and his fingers drum on his lap. The hotel is about 30 minutes from us, and every single minute is silent.

We pull into the parking lot of the hotel. Harry pulls out the crumpled up paper his mom gave him yesterday and check for the room number. Harry gives me the paper and I nod. We get out of the car and stand at the front of the giant building. Harry takes my hand.

“I’m here for you. I’ve got you the whole time.” I remind him.

“Thank you.” He almost whispers.

“No need to thank me.” I tell him. We walk inside the luxurious lobby and to the elevator. Harry presses the button for floor four. The doors close and we begin our ascent.

We step out and walk to the door. Harry takes a deep breath and knocks. I hear footstep pad to the door, a brief pause, and then the door opens.

An older looking man opens the door and I can feel Harry tense up.

“Hi dad.” He says. His father looks so happy and surprised to see him. His hand comes to his face before reaching for his son, then deciding against it.

“Harry. You’ve grown up so much.” He says.

“You’ve been gone for a while so I suppose I have.” He tells him. I can see the comment bristles his dad, but he overlooks it.

“Come in you two. And who is this lovely lady Harry?”

“This is Joey. She’s my soulmate.” He states.

“I’m Desmond.” He introduces himself to me. He puts his hand out to shake my hand. His soul mark visible as he waits for my hand to return it. I quickly shake his hand so he doesn’t think I’m rude. His hand retreats before I can read the words.

Desmond sits down on the bed, while Harry and I take the other chairs in the room. “I was afraid your mother wouldn’t tell you where I was. I didn’t know how else to reach you.”

Harry gives him a chuckle at that. “Mom was stubborn but she did tell me.”

“I can’t imagine it went well with her.”

“No. I did tell Gemma where to find you, but that’s up to her to actually come and see you.” Harry tells him and he gives him a small smile at that.

“Thank you son.” Desmond replies and I can feel Harry wince slightly at the name. Desmond must pick up on it too. “I’m sorry Harry. I can’t imagine this is easy for you. I imagine you have some questions of your own to ask.”

“A few.” Harry says shortly. Desmond doesn’t rush him. He gives him space to gather his thoughts and put them together. When Harry finally fits together what he wants to say, his dad looks at him encouragingly.

“My biggest question would have to be why you left? I was so young and you never told me goodbye.” Harry says, his voice cracking.

Desmond takes a deep, shaky breath before answering.

“I never wanted to leave you and Gemma. Your mom and I were so in love. I think maybe your mom felt suffocated by it. She always told me she didn’t feel good enough. Her mother always stressed on her about being the best and impressing your soulmate, but she said she could never measure up. It led to arguments because she couldn’t believe me when I said she was perfect just the way she was. It eventually made us distant. One day she asked me to leave. I fought and fought to stay, but she made me leave.”

Harry takes a moment to ponder what Desmond has said.

“So why does she blame you for hurting her? That’s what she always told me. You hurt her and left.”

“I think she just may have been hurt that my love wasn’t enough to fix her. I wasn’t enough to hold the pieces together. She never got to resolve her issues with her mom, and I think it was that guilt mixed in with everything. It was all too much on her. So she made me leave. She never let me come back. I tried to come back so many times. I tried to see her, see you and your sister. I couldn’t. I still love her so much. I’d do anything to be with her again.” He tells Harry, almost ready to cry.

There is a silence in the room that lingers after his confession. You can hear the traffic outside as cars zoom past us and people honk their horns.

“Why didn’t you say goodbye?” Harry asks, a little more emotional than before. He sniffles and casually wipes a tear away from his eye.

“Your mother told me it would only make it harder on you two.” He starts but Harry interrupts him.

“It was still hard. How many years did I have to wonder where dad went? I didn’t know if I had done something, or you died, or what happened. Gem used to have to sit and comfort me. Mom refused to comfort me when I cried for you. It was still hard.” He says, his words laced with anger.

“I’m so sorry Harry. I can’t even imagine what that must have been like. I’m sorry.” Desmond says sorrowfully. He doesn’t beg for forgiveness, because he probably knows how far fetched that sounds. I honestly don’t know that Harry would forgive him. It’s not my place to try and push him one way or the other.

Harry’s eyes close as tears slip from them. Those are the words he’s wanted to hear for a lifetime. A true apology from the father that abandoned him. You can see how hurt, but also relieved he is when his eyes open again. I reach my hand over and put it on his leg, silently showing him my support. He places his hand on top of it and Desmond smiles.

“I’m glad your mom didn’t steer you away from finding the love you deserve.” He says to Harry.

“She tried really damn hard to. We aren’t on great terms after yesterday.”

“Oh?” Desmond says. Harry explains it briefly to him and he understands. The conversation eventually shifts into talking about each other’s lives and what is going on since they’ve seen each other last. Harry’s tears dry and he’s happy to be able to tell his dad about his job and his friends. Desmond looks genuinely happy to hear about how well Harry is doing. Both of their smiles beam through their words.

“What about you, Joey? You’re awful quiet.” Desmond points out. I glance at him and then to Harry. I’m unsure if I should take Harry’s time from him and answer his dad’s question. Harry gives me a nod to answer as if he could read my mind.

“I work at a tattoo shop.” I answer.

“You must be so creative and talented then! Tattoos are hard work!” He says and it makes me smile.

“She did this one.” Harry says, holding his wrist out for his dad to see. He seems so proud of it and that makes my heart swell.

“I love that for you. It’s beautiful.” He tells us. Harry retracts his arm and places it back onto my hand.

“Thank you.” We both say and chuckle at the shared words.

Conversation carries on lightly, but I can’t help but notice how Harry’s posture has raised as if a weight has been lifted off of him. His smile beams brighter and for the first time since yesterday his smile reaches his eyes. He was scared to come here and to face his dad, but now that he has he’s like a whole new person. Although his broken relationship with his mom has him upset, he’s finally free from that influence. He, for the first time, gets to choose what he wants for his life and who he can talk to. He’s happy. He’s so joyful and his heart can’t even contain it. I wonder if he even realizes how fresh and new he looks from this.

Harry looks over and meets my eyes, catching me admiring him from my seat.

“Did you hear me?” He asks me. I feel heat creep up my face and shake my head no.

“Dad is going to get his phone so we can share numbers, and then we can go, okay?” He tells me.

“Sounds good.” I say. He looks at me with his dazzling smile and slightly tilts his head, his eyes narrowing at me.

“What were you thinking so hard about?” He asks.

“Nothing.” I say. I can tell he doesn’t quite believe me with the way he looks at me. “I’ll tell you later.”

His dad comes back out and Harry gives him his number. Desmond does the same. They give each other a deep, emotional hug. Desmond sees us out.

We spend the rest of the day at home doing stuff together. We relax and watch a show together, as well as read to each other parts of our books until it’s time for us to go to bed.

The past two days I can tell have taken such an emotional toll on Harry. He’s happy now from his reunion with his dad, but I imagine he’s going to have a period of time of mixed feelings towards his mom. He’s going to feel guilty for being so harsh with her, but he’s completely justified. He’s going to want to go back and make it right, and that’s his decision. I don’t want him to think he has to if she’s only going to hurt him. He deserves better than that, and I don’t believe that just because she is his mom means she automatically deserves forgiveness. I’m determined to be right here beside him for it all. We are soulmates after all.

When we lay down, Harry looks at me with hearts in his eyes.

“What?” I ask as I settle under the blanket.

“None of this would have been possible without you.” He tells me. “I really appreciate you sticking by me through the past few days.”

“You don’t have to thank me Har. I wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else.” I tell him. He pulls me closer and puts a gentle kiss on my lips.

“I love you. Forever.” He says to me and my heart melts.

“I love you. Forever.” I return. We fall asleep like this, in each other’s arms. Happy and content. Everything can only get better from here. We have the whole rest of our lives to build our relationship. I have a feeling we are only getting started.

Harry and I spend the next few months together. We see each other in one way or another. He comes to my work, I’ll spend the night at his place. We don’t ever really want to be apart anymore, which is why I’m not surprised when I get inside Harry’s front door, he has a small gift box for me.

“Open it.” He tells me, even before I can get my shoes off.

“Hold on a second, please?”

“I can’t.” He says. He gives me a small apologetic smile. I put my foot back on the ground, fixing my shoe back to my foot. Harry places the white boxed wrapped with red ribbon, a perfect bow on top, into my hands. He’s almost shaking with excitement. I untie the bow and open the lid of the box.

There is delicate white tissue paper hiding the contents. I pluck it off and see a shining silver key laying in a piece of velvety foam. I look up at Harry, wondering what this means.

“I’d like you to move in with me. We’re never apart and I figured we’ve been together a few months now. Plus I know your lease is about to go out and- and I feel like I’m rambling because I’m nervous but-“

“Yes, yes of course!” I say. Harry’s gives me a wide, toothy smile and wraps me in his arms, not caring that the box with the key is still in my hand. He lifts me into the air and places a kiss to my lips.

I think everything with Harry is going to turn out alright. We have a bright future planned. I’m excited for everything to work out. I’m glad Harry came around, even though we had such a bumpy start.

He’s so much happier now than he was and I’m so proud of him for standing up for what he believes in. The past few months have been hard. He hasn’t spoken to Anne since the day we left. She tries to call and stop by the house, but he ignores her calls and he keeps the door locked so she can’t just come in whenever she wants. She didn’t really like it at first, but she stopped coming by. She resorts to talking to Gemma, but Harry doesn’t mind. He is free and he is loving it.

I love Harry so much. I couldn’t imagine my life without him now. I don’t know how I ever lived without him before. I never want to live without him again.

- - -

Masterlist Series Part 5 (Series Completed)

Taglist:

@maudie-duan

[seasidesandstarscapes]

Right in the Numbers - Chapter 7 - Finale

Prev

Summary: The team finally intervenes

Words: 3692

A/N: shout-out to everyone who supported me through this fic cause without y’all it wouldn’t exist ;v; you guys are the best!!!

~

AO3

or

The interrogations start with Chuck and Roger.

“So you’re just leaving it at that?” Chuck balks.

Wedged between his two friends on their couch, Don can only shrug. Recounting everything has worn him out and he’s tempted to cancel the rest of the evening.

“Don,” Roger runs his forehead. “Bobby’s been hurt. He’s not meaning to take it out on you. In fact, I think he’s desperately in love with you.”

“Right,” Don mumbles. “That’s why he ended things.”

Chuck and Roger share an exasperated breath. Their stares bore into Don but he doesn’t care. He nurses his beer, replays several nights over and over in his head.

The truth is, he cares so much it’s consuming him. Bobby doesn’t let things slip out. As extroverted as he is, he’s a closed book. Careful with his words when need be. When Bobby’s not his usual ball of energy, everyone knows it’s because something is eating away at him. Whether it’s a certain play, a bad drill, or maybe even falling in love.

Don strikes the last one from his mind.

“I don’t know, man. I think you should talk to him. Talk talk. No more pussyfooting around this,” Chuck is stern, almost terrifyingly so.

“Why?” Don frowns, picks at the label on the bottle he’s drinking out of.

“Why not? You can’t keep burrowing into yourself when Bobby is too much.”

“He’s not too much,” Don speaks without thinking.

Roger raises a brow and Chuck seems to be holding his breath.

With a frown, Don sinks into the couch. Bobby’s expression from their last night is still etched in his mind. But when he remembers it, all he sees is pain, a fading hope turning to grief. And he was the one who caused it all.

It’s too late to make amends now. He had chances time and time again to convince Bobby they were worth fighting for. Instead, he fled and left Bobby to deal with the destruction on his own.

He’s inconsolable for the rest of the night. When Chuck and Roger finally drop him off at home, Don nearly throws his phone into the toilet just to get his friends to stop contacting him. He can’t take all this compassion when he doesn’t deserve it

A day later, he’s cornered by Gordy and Johnny in the laundry room. Don’s sure he’s a lost cause, that he might as well be traded at this point.

“So, you and Bobby, huh?” Johnny ventures.

“It’s not like that,” Don tries to hide his agitation.

Johnny and Gordy raise their brows and Don slams his jersey into the washing machine.

“Okay, out with it.”

“Something’s changed,” Gordy shrugs. “The team feels off. You and Bobby feel…off.”

Don wants to laugh. Somehow, he and Bobby could keep their hormones off the ice, but just a little bit of heartache and Don’s letting himself slip. Then, there’s that glimmer of hope. If Bobby isn’t his best, maybe, just maybe, he still has a chance.

“I’m sure it’s just semi-final nerves,” Don mumbles.

“You’re kidding,” Gordy sighs. “Hume, we don’t want to push anything, but we’ll lock you and Bobby in the office until you hash it out if we have to.”

Both Johnny and Don stare at Gordy like he’s grown two heads.

“We?” Johnny says, as if he’s the one getting in trouble.

“Guys,” Don waves. “It’ll sort itself out. I’m sure.”

Gordy rolls his eyes, sighs in exasperation. “Uh huh, you keep telling yourself that.”

Any rebuttal gets caught in Don’s throat and he can barely return Johnny’s sympathetic smile. The guys make it seem all so easy. They aren’t the ones caught up in a relationship that goes beyond the definition of complicated.

Except, it never was a relationship. Don reminds himself of that. Sure, he and Bobby spent every moment together before all this. They had planned dinners, days just hanging out at each other’s apartments. Amazing sex Don never imagined possible.

Then Bobby revealed himself and Don ran. He’s supposed to be better than this, but hiding is so much easier. Living in the past doesn’t hurt.

This isn’t right though. There is a Bobby-shaped gap in Don’s life and he doesn’t know how to fix it.

Don wants to cry when Jim and Shorty approach him later.

“Why do you guys come in pairs?” Don knocks his forehead against the wall.

“Moral support,” Shorty replies. “Which you need too.”

“I’m fine,” Don sighs, sinking to the closest bench.

“Bobby said that the same way,” Jim muses.

Don furrows his brows, looks at his friends for clarification.

“Not getting involved, we all agreed,” Shorty holds up his hands, “but you really gotta do something about Bobby.”

“Why me?”

“Because you’re the problem,” Jim says not so eloquently. “Okay, not problem, but…”

“It’s clear Bobby needs to see you,” Shorty tries to help. “You should see the look in his eyes whenever we mention you.”

Don wonders if it’s longing or regret that shines in Bobby’s stare.

“Yeah, it’s probably disgust,” he attempts a self-deprecating joke.

“He’s hopeless,” Jim throws up his hands dramatically. “They both are!”

Shorty’s fuming silence is palpable and Don pulls up the collar of his shirt to chew on it. The habit offers little comfort as Shorty glares daggers at him.

“Alright, maybe this is what you deserve then,” Shorty bites. “Maybe you don’t get that chance to see what you two could really be.”

With that, Shorty storms off, leaving Jim and Don in an awkward stare down.

“Don,” Jim’s voice is soft. “if all of us coming here doesn’t convince you that maybe Bobby wants to try…,” he shakes his head. “Do what you want. We’ll still be your friends at the end of the day.”

Don feels like throwing up. Here he is getting good, sound advice, but he can’t take any of it to heart. The what-ifs claw at his chest, stealing his words, clouding his thoughts.

They’re dancing around the obvious, letting their own minds get the best of them. If Bobby is ready to listen, he should speak up first.

Don reprimands himself for this thought. He shouldn’t be so cruel.

For once, there are cracks in Bobby’s shell. Maybe he can be the one to push through them. To show Bobby what kind of love he deserves.

When Joe shows up at his apartment, Don knows what comes next.

“What’s holding you back?” Joe cuts to the chase.

“I don’t know,” Don admits. “Everything. We’re a mess, Joe. Maybe it’s better if we stay apart.”

Don isn’t sure if he believes his own words. The silence is too loud and he bites a fingernail as he waits for Joe to say something.

“Some days it felt like you and him were more serious than I am with Joyce,” Joe starts. “And I love that girl to death.”

He’s staring at Don, waits for their eyes to meet before continuing on. “Do you want to try?”

“Of course I do,” Don says softly. “Hell, I’d follow him to the ends of the earth.”

“So, do that then. Stop waiting for him to make the first move. Bobby’s as lovesick as they come, he’s not going to turn you away. Not if you keep trying.”

Joe is so confident in his words and Don’s immediate reaction is to fight back. He’s wrong. They’re all wrong.

“Go,” Joe stands up and grabs Don’s arm to take him with. “Talk to him now.”

Don flounders for an excuse, but his keys get shoved in his hand, and Joe pushes him out of the apartment.

“Swear to god, Don, if you don’t do this, I’m never talking to you again.”

It’s an empty threat but Don is terrified all the same. He locks his door, follows Joe out to the parking lot.

“Joe?” He calls out just before he reaches his car.

Joe looks back, eyebrows raised.

“Thanks.”

With just a smile and a wave, Joe disappears. Don wishes he could take Joe with him, but his advice, all the team’s advice, is enough to build his courage.

He doesn’t even give it any thought when he pulls up to Bobby’s complex, slips in past the main entrance that miraculously sits open, and knocks on Bobby’s door.

Then, all his emotions flood into him. He’s going to fuck this up. Something is sure to go wrong. Bobby is taking too long to answer and Don knocks again.

Don breathes a sigh of relief when the door cracks and then flies open.

“Don? What are you doing here?” Bobby’s eyes are red almost as if he’s been crying.

Holding himself from reaching out, Don fidgets with his sleeve. “Can we talk?”

“Now?”

Don nods, his breaths dragging out. As if Bobby’s very presence is stealing the air from his lungs. When the door opens all the way, Don barges in, heads towards the couch and sits down.

“What are we talking about?” Bobby takes a seat next to Don.

There’s a full cushion between them and Don tries not to think about it. “Us.”

“Don…,” Bobby starts, but Don can’t let this opportunity slip through his fingers.

“I love you.”

Bobby goes quiet, eyes wide and distrusting. He opens his mouth and Don shoots ahead yet again.

“I know we said no strings attached, that we weren’t supposed to get feelings, but we did. At least…I know I love you.” Don collects himself, wills back the tears. “I shouldn’t have left you alone. All those times, I should've stayed by your side instead of running. I was being selfish and, shit, maybe I’m still being a prick now.”

No longer does Don need forgiveness. He just wants Bobby to be okay, whatever it takes.

“All I know is, I don’t want to imagine a day without you. If you really don’t feel the same, if you really don’t want this, fine. But I had to tell you the truth. I want to give us a try.”

Bobby’s stare is watery, his bottom lip trembles and Don can’t tell if Bobby wants to scream or punch him. Or both.

“Don,” Bobby’s voice shakes. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Like hell I don’t!” Don grabs Bobby’s arms, sure he’s going to leave permanent marks. “My entire life all I thought I needed was hockey. And then you came along. Turned me on my head. I mean, fuck, have you ever heard me talk this much before?”

A choked sob tears itself from Bobby’s throat and all he does is shake his head.

“Bobby,” Don releases his grip so he can wipe away the tears. “Talk to me.”

Bobby swallows, a small breath leaving him. “Someone like me doesn’t get to have a happy ending.”

It’s sharp, despondent, so unlike Bobby that it starts to scare Don.

“You do though,” Don murmurs, searching deep into Bobby’s eyes.

“No, Don,” Bobby nearly exclaims. “Look at us. Look at our lives. Even without the camming, my fuck-ups, I’m screwed. I’m…I’m no good.”

Don’s heart breaks and he catches the tears that fall down Bobby’s face. “Why do you keep believing that?”

“It’s the truth.” Bobby’s voice wobbles as he gives a small shrug.

“Bobby,” Don lets out a gentle sigh.

He doesn’t know what to say, what Bobby needs to hear. If he could tear down every person who shattered Bobby’s spirit, he’d go out and do it in an instant.

Even if it means punishing himself.

However, Bobby’s fading light, his crushed soul, asks Don to take a kinder path. With a swallow, Don finds his voice again.

“You’re the best goddamn goalie the leagues have seen. You push not only me, but everyone on the team to do their best. You…,” Don pauses, takes in the watery eyes that stare back at him.

“If you want me to leave, I will,” Don breathes. “I won’t regret a single moment…but I’ll miss you like hell.”

Bobby’s entire body shakes as sobs wrack through him and Don can only keep holding on tight. One hand cards through Bobby’s hair while the other clutches onto his back. Don worries if he lets go, Bobby will crumble into pieces.

Bobby buries his face into Don’s chest then, his words muffled and yet so clear.

“Don’t. Don’t leave me.”

Without a second thought, Don pulls Bobby into a kiss. It’s wet, it’s messy, and it’s the most wonderful sensation Don has felt in a month. Bobby gasps into Don’s mouth around a small cry, his hands scrambling to grab hold of Don.

Their kiss doesn’t end, not really. Even as they come up for air, Don and Bobby linger in each other, their lips brushing, cheeks grazing.

Bobby grips onto Don for dear life, whispering affection and love to him in between his crying hiccups. It takes all of Don’s will to not crush Bobby in his embrace, to hold tight and never let go. He trails kisses along Bobby’s head, rubs his back until Bobby can finally take a breath.

“God, sorry,” Bobby sits back to wipe his face with his sleeve. “You’ve made me a mess.”

“Okay.”

Bobby lets out a bright laugh and Don soaks it in. It’s good to see Bobby coming back to himself, a picture of perfection.

“I really fucked things up, didn’t I?” Bobby sighs. “No one’s ever treated me like you have, Don. It’s…I’m not used to it.”

Don purses his lips, takes both of Bobby’s hands into his own. “I fucked things up, Bobby. I want to be better. I want to treat you right.”

“Oh, baby, you have,” Bobby squeezes his hands. “This past year, I couldn’t have asked for anything better.”

A blush creeps onto Don’s face and he ducks his head with a small smile. Bobby reaches up, gently tugs at Don’s chin so their eyes can meet.

“I love you, Don Hume.”

Everything is perfect and Don drags Bobby into another passionate kiss. He can’t believe his luck and he pushes deeper into the embrace, to prove to Bobby he’s worth every ounce of love Don has for him.

Bobby’s mouth opens, granting him access, and Don slips his tongue in, easily falling into Bobby’s rhythm. Don thinks for a moment they should take it slower, but all of that goes out the window when Bobby moans into the kiss.

They break apart, breathless and warm, staring deep into each other’s eyes. Bobby’s fingers dance along his neck and Don toys with the hem of Bobby’s shirt.

“I want to take you here. Properly,” Bobby says. “No camera, no fake whatever. Just you and me.”

The world clicks into place and Don nods, stripping Bobby of his shirt before getting rid of his own. Their movements are slow, hands running over chests, along toned muscles. Almost as if they’re seeing each other for the first time.

Bobby bites his lip when Don swipes a thumb across his nipple, something feral flashing in his eyes. Interest piqued, Don leans in, sucks, and Bobby melts into the touch. He climbs into Don’s lap, grinds their growing erections together as Don continues to play with his nipples. He rolls the other one between his thumb and forefinger, bringing both to stiff nubs. Curious, Don pinches and Bobby cries out.

“Shit…shit, baby, if you do that again I won’t last long,” he pushes Don just far enough away.

Don grins, gives Bobby’s nipple a small bite before pulling off. Bobby’s face is flushed, his mouth open and gasping. No work of art can compare to this. Don thinks he’s starting to understand why artists struggle. Bobby’s shining eyes, the quirk of his mouth can’t be committed to a canvas.

Bobby works at Don’s jeans, all but tears them off with his briefs while he moves in between Don’s legs. With little preamble, he licks long stripes up Don’s cock and his fingers trace from his balls to his hole. Don keens, grabs onto whatever of the couch he can just to not choke Bobby with his cock.

Breaking away for just a moment, Bobby grabs a bottle of lube from out of nowhere and resumes sucking Don’s cock down. Don shudders as Bobby takes all of his length, his throat constricting before he pulls back to kiss at the tip.

“Bobby,” Don groans, reaching out for him.

“Yeah, baby?” Bobby grins against his leg.

Don pauses, captivated by Bobby’s handsome face. He’s determined to never be the reason Bobby hurts again. He’ll make sure Bobby always has someone to weather the storm with him.

Bobby kisses Don’s inner thigh, his gaze filled with pure adoration while Don stares. He guides Don’s hands to his hair, makes him curl his fingers as he deepthroats Don again. A lubed finger presses at Don’s hole and he tries to relax. He doesn’t know what he wants more, to come down Bobby’s throat or to have Bobby fuck him until he can’t think straight.

“I might not—,” Don gasps, “Bobby, pull off I’m going to come.”

Bobby doesn’t. He keeps bobbing his head on Don’s dick, his finger pushing into Don. It’s overwhelming and delicious and Don can’t stop. He comes in Bobby’s mouth, his own moan loud in his ears.

He expects Bobby to move away, but he drinks down all of Don’s come, smiles around his dick.

“Fuck, you’re horrible,” Don sighs.

With a pop, Bobby pulls off Don. “But you love it.”

“Course I do.”

Bobby sits up, slides forward to sit between Don’s legs. Between his breaths, Don simply stares at Bobby. God, he’s so far gone. He can’t see any flaw in Bobby, the past pain nothing more than a memory. He has all he wants. All he’s ever needed is right in front of him.

“Hey, where’s your head at?” Bobby teases.

Don gives him a lazy smile, shrugs, which gets him an amused scoff in return.

“I’ll get it out of you.”

Bobby’s grin is wicked and Don bucks when Bobby prods at his hole again. Relaxing is far from his mind. He just wants Bobby in him now, wishes he could take him without all this prep.

“Shh, I’ll make it good for you, baby,” Bobby rubs Don’s thigh.

Don nods, closes his eyes and sinks into the couch. He chews on his bottom lip as one finger pushes in, Bobby taking his sweet time. Of course Don appreciates it, but he’s almost shaking from anticipation.

He gasps, bites his knuckle as Bobby scissors him open. Bobby’s other hand continues to massage his leg, runs up along his side. Don shivers and he takes Bobby’s hand in his own when it trails across his chest.

Bobby kisses him then and Don has never felt more loved. Even when the kiss ends, Bobby keeps pecking at his lips until Don forgets about what they were doing in the first place.

Then, Bobby stretches him with three fingers, curls them so the pads drag inside. Don moans, his grip on Bobby’s hand turning white as Bobby keeps rubbing at his prostate.

“Bobby, please,” he chokes out.

“I’ve got you, Don,” Bobby murmurs against his neck, leaving a kiss before pulling back.

Don hates the feeling of being empty. His mind teases him with the idea of sitting on Bobby’s cock all day and he can’t imagine anything better.

When Bobby pushes into him, Don’s hands scramble to grip onto his shoulders, to pull Bobby ever closer.

“Fuck, Don, you feel so good,” Bobby moans, holding onto Don’s hips. “So tight, so hot.”

Don keens at the praise, wraps his legs around Bobby. “You can go faster.”

Bobby’s stare turns fiery, passionate, and he pulls out his dick slowly only to slam it back into Don. It’s on the edge of painful and Don indulges in the sharp thrusts. He wants Bobby to break him and build him back up again.

“Don,” Bobby leans over him, bringing their faces so close, Don can feel their souls bleeding together.

“Bobby,” Don breathes.

The glass shatters and Don is caught in engulfing pleasure. Bobby moans, hot and heavy into his ear, while his cock drives home. There is no other thought in Don’s mind beyond Bobby, Bobby, Bobby.

Don comes silently, holding Bobby against him as he rides out his waves. Even with his oversensitivity, he urges Bobby forward. He loves this, Bobby using him as he pleases to reach his own orgasm.

Don clenches down and that sends Bobby over the edge. He comes with a choked moan, wrapping his arms around Don in a crushing hug.

Bobby shudders as he comes back to himself and Don takes the opportunity to run his hand through Bobby’s hair. When Bobby lifts his head, his eyes are shining with tears but Don knows it isn’t out of sadness.

Taking Bobby’s face in his hands, he tugs him forward, kisses both his cheeks before bringing their lips together in a small, gentle embrace.

When the kiss ends, the two men take to staring at each other, letting fingers trail along skin, memorizing the feeling of just being.

“Damn, who would’ve thought?” Bobby smiles.

Don tilts his head. He has a thought of what Bobby will say next, but still asks with his eyes.

“That I would land the hottest guy on the team.”

A laugh bubbles out of Don and he gives Bobby a playful smack as he laughs as well. They untangle themselves and Bobby drags them to the bathroom to get properly cleaned up.

The shower is warm, but it doesn’t come close to holding Bobby in his arms. Don doesn’t dare look away. A second without Bobby is much too long. He kisses along Bobby’s temple, carefully cleans his skin while leaving little marks behind. This is where he’s meant to be.

When Bobby motions for Don to lean down so he can scrub his hair for him, Don can only oblige with a smile.

It’s time for a new start and Don can’t wait to see where Bobby will take him next.

[pbandjesse]

My voice is a lot better today. Not perfect, but a lot better. I was kind of straining at times but honestly today was great and I am really happy.

I did actually sleep pretty well last night. I wasn't sure after my weird meletonion mistake. I stayed up until James got home. The ravens won so they were excited. But I was very sleepy. So I was only awake enough to know the were home and then they told me they were going to shower and I don't remember much past asking them to turn the lights off.

When I woke up I was pretty tired. So I decided to sleep a little longer. I woke up at 830 and scrolled on my phone for a little. When I got up I tossed all the blankets and pillows on the ground and went to get washed and dressed.

I felt really cute today. I have some dry skin on my upper lip and it's making me self conscious but I felt cute beyond that.

I made the bed and had a little breakfast. James made me hash browns. I decided I would collect all the materials for my class. And then I would clean the apartment.

I had a lot of stuff to gather. I had thankfully already done most of the collecting. I double checked my sewing machines. And I'm glad I brought both because when I had an issue with the heavy duty I was able to switch to the brother and it saved a lot of time.

I put everything by the door. And went to work on cleaning. I did change the kitty litter and cleaned the whole box. Vacuumed the whole area. Then worked on cleaning the frog tank. I did a new thing where I got the snails but then put a lot of the water back. I hate how much I was picking up stones but it is progress in dealing with the snails. They will probably never go away but honestly they keep the tank pretty clean, I just hate that there's a thousand of them.

I chilled for a bit. I didn't need to leave until 1130 but I ended up leaving at 11. I packed up the car. It took 3 trips down to the car but that was all good. Everything fit really nice in the back seat. And then I was off.

I decided to drive around Patterson to some of the houses we are looking at. I'm still thinking about the yellow house a lot. So I went to that block and I really like the block. Past that street reminds of of Brooklyn. A little rough but not to bad. We ended up not being able to see the place tonight so we might see some tomorrow. But the yellow one is very much in my mind right now. Even if the bathroom is very small.

I got to creative alliance and parked around the corner. I walked my sewing machine to the front and a nice lady let me inside. Parker was there and it was very loud because the kids were working and having fun doing their graffiti work on canvas. The another artist had music going and everyone was working hard and it was such a lovely space to walk into.

I did a little sorting of my stuff and looking at the supply shelf. I chatted with the other artist. And a few of the kids came up to me to ask why they recognized me. A couple go to puhtok, a few from the museum. It was nice to be recognized.

They had lunch and while they were in the other room I set all my stuff up and moved the furniture a bit so I could be neat and outlet. I was really excited to teach. My voice was still strained but I was still doing alright. By the end of the day I was straining a little more. But I made it through.

And it was a blast. Once they all came in I explained about my voice. They were very sweet about it. I went through my background. Talked about when I learned to sew when I was around their age. I brought, tater tot, my very first plushie. To show them that it won't always be perfect but it's still important that you made it.

And they did such a good job. We went through all the stitches. And I walked them through the materials and tools. And then we got started. They each had a rectangle of fabric they would sew into a small pillow. Using a running stitch, then a back stitch, then a whip stitch. And there were bumps in the road. Mostly tying the strings. But it was fine. A few of them were good enough that they could help each other. And Parker was able to help as well. It was chaotic but honestly I was having the best time.

They would have a little break. One of the kids' dad brought some cookies for everyone to have. I got to have one too! I would have to wrangle a few kids but it was all good. I really liked this group of kids.

Once we were done snack I started with sewing machine stuff. A few of them would stand around while I explained and then we would have a sign up to come get help putting eyes on and going over off their stitches. It was fun. But it was also a lot!! Just go go go. And when my machine messed up I was like. Thank God I had a second machine set up. Everyone was great though. And while no everyone felt comfortable using the machine we got through it all and it was a lot of fun.

I was surprised when Parker came to tell me there was only 5 minutes left. I went "ahhhh!!" And got the last few kids pieces done.

One of the students, Zee's, dad had sent me an email the other day that he wanted to possibly have me come teach a group of kids some model/diorama making. So we had a nice chat about that and I am going to get him a proposal written up soon.

Parker, Zee, and Zee's dad all came together to get the room cleaned up. I collected any pins or needles I found on the ground. I put everything by the door and once it was all ready and packed I went to get the car and drove it around the block. They were all so nice and brought everything outside to help load my car. So nice of them. Me and Parker had a little debrief. And then I was off.

My throat hurt and I was tired but I was really happy. I texted James I was heading home and would please like a salad for dinner.

I was really happy to be home. I parked and brought my one sewing machine inside. James would come home not long after me. They would bring in everything else. Love them.

We talked and looked at Zillow listings. James made pizza for themselves and a salad for me and we just chilled together. It was really nice.

Sweetp would cuddle with me for a bit. And then I went to take a bath.

I did all my lotions. And brushed my teeth. And now I am in bed cuddling and feeling pretty nice.

Tomorrow I have the last farmers market of the season!! I hope it's a fun day. I hope it is beautiful.

Sleep well everyone. I love you all. Goodnight!!

[atplblog]

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[oxymoron0-o]

Every morning, it was the same: six o’clock, the train tracks on the living-room floor, a heavy skillet on the kitchen stove, a pat of butter, frozen hash browns retrieved from a wrinkled bag in the freezer, a dusting of salt, a carton of yogurt in the fridge, wash his plastic bowl left in the sink from the night before, wash his tractor plate because it was the only plate on which the little prince accepted his food, flip the hash browns, fill the bowl, wash his fork and spoon, hashies on the plate, plate on the little plastic table in the corner of the kitchen. Milkie or juice, honey? Milkie or juice? She ate a banana, which he wanted, too—not his own, but hers, the rest of it —because, yes, he was still hungry. He wanted to push the button on the blender when she made her smoothie, but he was afraid of the noise of the machine, so he threw himself on the floor in a frustrated rage, because he didn’t want it to be loud when he pushed the button, and he must push the button. Honey, she said, you know it’s loud. Every morning, it’s loud.

--Nightbitch by Rachel Yoder

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[thenightlymirror]

I went to Europe ages ago. I was still a teenager and spent nearly all that time in England, a few days in Paris. In London, we stayed at a hostel with some real characters. They were overbooked and stuck us in a staff room, with a Canadian named Duane, a girl from Minnesota named Melody who was only squatting there, and Patsy, a 35 year old Irish drug dealer who was nominally the maintenance man, but really after 10pm, kids would get lost in the labyrinthine hallway upstairs while we slept and bang on the door all hours of the night shouting “PATSY! PATSY! Have you got any X?” I would wake up in the middle of the night to him and his supplier cutting and snorting drugs on my bottom bunk. Or the whole bed shaking like a washing machine with me riding on top and some girl whispering “Patsy… Patsy… Ohh Patsy…” down below followed minutes later by thick drafts of hash which would get into our clothes and follow us as Dan and I walked around seeing the sights. We saw on a map a place called Land’s End, on the south western edge of the island, so in the interest of milder cartographical extremities than our bunkmates might have found interest in, we went out west to see it. Taking busses to cities here and there, walking into pubs, asking where the nearest place to stay might be, sleeping together on a bed in some house on a random street in a foreign country. We got to Penzance and travelled along the coast. I forgot where we slept that night, I remember breakfast. I’m forgetting the entire trip through Oxford, Salisbury, Avebury, and all that. Well, we decided to hike the rest of the way through Cornwall to Land’s End in Sennen. It was excellent to see the country that way. Giant yellow hills in gray fog, lightly drizzling over us, our packs eating our shoulders, then the end of the world, with its silly gift shop and the most beautiful cliffs, red green and calcium white. Not as beautiful as California, I should say. That is unmatched in my experience. But extraordinary. Avebury is so much better than Stonehenge and its phony headphone tours and roped off monoliths. Walking all day through farm yards, touching the silver stones, following the trail in the hush of the sunset. Actual witchcraft. We walked around the garden of the Salisbury Cathedral, I swear the whole town was closed that day. Just the hoot of an owl as we approached. I don’t think I had ever seen Dan so superstitious. Oxford College itself had an interesting yellow atmosphere about it that separated it from the town, where we stayed with an older woman who might have been half-muppet, some kind of Jim Henson creation. We got shouted at by a homeless man and talked to him for a while to calm him down. I was always making a fool of myself on the road there. I remember that morning on the bus in Penzance opening a plastic package of muesli and accidentally tearing through the entire side sending granola everywhere. Dan couldn’t even look at me.

[lordkizzy1]

Programming the Future: Unleashing Abundance in Web 3.0

In the ever-evolving landscape of technology, some of the most profound societal transformations emerge not from grand strategies or lofty ideals but from unassuming origins. Consider the invention of the washing machine, a humble yet revolutionary device that significantly contributed to the emancipation of women by mechanizing domestic labor. Similarly, today’s digital innovations, particularly within the Web 3.0 ecosystem, are poised to redefine our future in ways we are only beginning to comprehend.

Responsive Web Design: Crafting the Future of User Experience

As we advance into Web 3.0, the role of responsive web design becomes increasingly pivotal. Web 3.0, characterized by decentralized applications (dApps) and blockchain technology, requires interfaces that adapt seamlessly across devices. Responsive design ensures that users interact with Web 3.0 applications fluidly, regardless of whether they’re on a smartphone, tablet, or desktop. The scalability and adaptability of these interfaces are crucial as developers work to create immersive, accessible experiences in a decentralized digital environment.

Consider a simple code snippet for responsive web design in the context of a Web 3.0 dApp:

```html <meta name=”viewport” content=”width=device-width, initial-scale=1.0"> <style> body { font-family: Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0; padding: 0; } .container { width: 100%; max-width: 1200px; margin: auto; padding: 20px; } .responsive-element { display: flex; flex-direction: column; align-items: center; } @media (min-width: 768px) { .responsive-element { flex-direction: row; justify-content: space-between; } } </style>

<div class=”container”> <div class=”responsive-element”> <p>Blockchain Node A</p> <p>Blockchain Node B</p> <p>Blockchain Node C</p> </div> </div> ```

This snippet illustrates the importance of flexible design in Web 3.0, where users might access decentralized networks through various devices. Responsive design ensures that the user experience remains consistent, whether interacting with a Solana node or another blockchain network.

Solana’s Technical Advancements: Pioneering Scalability and Developer Opportunities

Solana, a high-performance blockchain, is a prime example of how technical advancements in Web 3.0 can drive both developer opportunities and scalability improvements. Solana’s architecture, which boasts a theoretical throughput of 65,000 transactions per second (TPS), sets it apart from many other blockchains, offering developers a robust platform for building scalable dApps.

A key innovation within the Solana ecosystem is Firedancer, a parallel execution engine that significantly enhances the performance of the Solana network. Firedancer allows Solana to handle an even higher volume of transactions by optimizing the execution of smart contracts and reducing latency. This technological leap positions Solana as a leader in Web 3.0 scalability, making it an attractive choice for developers seeking to build high-performance applications.

Here’s a simplified example of how a developer might interact with Solana’s network using its API:

```javascript const solanaWeb3 = require(‘@solana/web3.js’); const connection = new solanaWeb3.Connection(solanaWeb3.clusterApiUrl(‘mainnet-beta’), ‘confirmed’);

async function getLatestBlockhash() { let latestBlockhash = await connection.getLatestBlockhash(); console.log(‘Latest Blockhash:’, latestBlockhash.blockhash); }

getLatestBlockhash(); ```

This snippet showcases the ease with which developers can integrate with Solana’s network, retrieving critical blockchain data like the latest block hash. The simplicity and efficiency of Solana’s API empower developers to build sophisticated applications without getting bogged down by the complexities often associated with blockchain development.

Comparing Solana’s Architecture with Other Blockchains

When compared to other blockchain networks like Ethereum or Binance Smart Chain, Solana’s architecture stands out for its innovative approach to scalability and speed. While Ethereum’s move towards Ethereum 2.0 and proof-of-stake (PoS) consensus aims to address its scalability issues, Solana has already implemented a unique proof-of-history (PoH) mechanism that optimizes consensus by timestamping transactions before they enter the blockchain.

This architectural difference enables Solana to achieve higher throughput and lower transaction costs, making it particularly appealing for developers focused on DeFi, NFTs, and other high-demand applications. The combination of PoH with Solana’s Tower BFT (Byzantine Fault Tolerance) consensus ensures that the network remains secure and efficient, even under heavy loads.

Koii: Extending Solana’s Capabilities for a Decentralized Future

Amidst these technological advancements, Koii emerges as a key player leveraging Solana’s robust architecture to push the boundaries of what’s possible in Web 3.0. Koii is built on Solana, utilizing its high throughput and low latency to power a decentralized network that rewards users for contributing resources and engaging with content.

Koii’s unique approach to decentralized computation and content delivery aligns perfectly with Solana’s scalability. By incentivizing users to contribute their spare computing resources, Koii not only extends Solana’s capabilities but also democratizes access to digital assets and platforms. This decentralized model challenges traditional profit-driven paradigms, offering a glimpse into a more equitable digital future.

Consider how Koii’s API might be used to integrate decentralized storage within a Solana-powered dApp:

```javascript const koiiWeb3 = require(‘@koii/web3.js’);

async function storeContentOnKoii(data) { let result = await koiiWeb3.storeData(data); console.log(‘Content stored with ID:’, result.id); }

storeContentOnKoii({ title: ‘Web 3.0 Article’, content: ‘Exploring the future of decentralized technologies…’ }); ```

This example demonstrates the seamless integration between Koii and Solana, where developers can store and manage content in a decentralized manner, enhancing the resilience and accessibility of their applications.

The Key Impact of Solana and Koii in Web 3.0

As Web 3.0 continues to evolve, Solana and Koii are at the forefront of driving meaningful change. Solana’s technical advancements, particularly with innovations like Firedancer, provide the necessary infrastructure for building scalable, high-performance dApps. Meanwhile, Koii extends these capabilities, offering a decentralized framework that empowers users and developers alike.

For young developers and Web 3.0 enthusiasts, particularly those in Africa, the opportunities presented by Solana and Koii are immense. As these technologies mature, they offer a pathway to not only participate in the next wave of digital innovation but to lead it. By embracing responsive design, leveraging Solana’s unparalleled scalability, and exploring Koii’s decentralized solutions, developers can create applications that not only perform but also democratize access to digital resources and opportunities.

Click the link below to be part of Koii Networks’s amazing experience: https://www.koii.network/node?promo=DB2316CCECED&utm_source=tumblr&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_campaign=solflip

#web3 #Solana #Koii network #programming

[michealkizzy]

Programming the Future: Unleashing Abundance in Web 3.0

In the ever-evolving landscape of technology, some of the most profound societal transformations emerge not from grand strategies or lofty ideals but from unassuming origins. Consider the invention of the washing machine, a humble yet revolutionary device that significantly contributed to the emancipation of women by mechanizing domestic labor. Similarly, today’s digital innovations, particularly within the Web 3.0 ecosystem, are poised to redefine our future in ways we are only beginning to comprehend.

Responsive Web Design: Crafting the Future of User Experience

As we advance into Web 3.0, the role of responsive web design becomes increasingly pivotal. Web 3.0, characterized by decentralized applications (dApps) and blockchain technology, requires interfaces that adapt seamlessly across devices. Responsive design ensures that users interact with Web 3.0 applications fluidly, regardless of whether they’re on a smartphone, tablet, or desktop. The scalability and adaptability of these interfaces are crucial as developers work to create immersive, accessible experiences in a decentralized digital environment.

Consider a simple code snippet for responsive web design in the context of a Web 3.0 dApp:

```html <meta name=”viewport” content=”width=device-width, initial-scale=1.0"> <style> body { font-family: Arial, sans-serif; margin: 0; padding: 0; } .container { width: 100%; max-width: 1200px; margin: auto; padding: 20px; } .responsive-element { display: flex; flex-direction: column; align-items: center; } @media (min-width: 768px) { .responsive-element { flex-direction: row; justify-content: space-between; } } </style>

<div class=”container”> <div class=”responsive-element”> <p>Blockchain Node A</p> <p>Blockchain Node B</p> <p>Blockchain Node C</p> </div> </div> ```

This snippet illustrates the importance of flexible design in Web 3.0, where users might access decentralized networks through various devices. Responsive design ensures that the user experience remains consistent, whether interacting with a Solana node or another blockchain network.

Solana’s Technical Advancements: Pioneering Scalability and Developer Opportunities

Solana, a high-performance blockchain, is a prime example of how technical advancements in Web 3.0 can drive both developer opportunities and scalability improvements. Solana’s architecture, which boasts a theoretical throughput of 65,000 transactions per second (TPS), sets it apart from many other blockchains, offering developers a robust platform for building scalable dApps.

A key innovation within the Solana ecosystem is Firedancer, a parallel execution engine that significantly enhances the performance of the Solana network. Firedancer allows Solana to handle an even higher volume of transactions by optimizing the execution of smart contracts and reducing latency. This technological leap positions Solana as a leader in Web 3.0 scalability, making it an attractive choice for developers seeking to build high-performance applications.

Here’s a simplified example of how a developer might interact with Solana’s network using its API:

```javascript const solanaWeb3 = require(‘@solana/web3.js’); const connection = new solanaWeb3.Connection(solanaWeb3.clusterApiUrl(‘mainnet-beta’), ‘confirmed’);

async function getLatestBlockhash() { let latestBlockhash = await connection.getLatestBlockhash(); console.log(‘Latest Blockhash:’, latestBlockhash.blockhash); }

getLatestBlockhash(); ```

This snippet showcases the ease with which developers can integrate with Solana’s network, retrieving critical blockchain data like the latest block hash. The simplicity and efficiency of Solana’s API empower developers to build sophisticated applications without getting bogged down by the complexities often associated with blockchain development.

Comparing Solana’s Architecture with Other Blockchains

When compared to other blockchain networks like Ethereum or Binance Smart Chain, Solana’s architecture stands out for its innovative approach to scalability and speed. While Ethereum’s move towards Ethereum 2.0 and proof-of-stake (PoS) consensus aims to address its scalability issues, Solana has already implemented a unique proof-of-history (PoH) mechanism that optimizes consensus by timestamping transactions before they enter the blockchain.

This architectural difference enables Solana to achieve higher throughput and lower transaction costs, making it particularly appealing for developers focused on DeFi, NFTs, and other high-demand applications. The combination of PoH with Solana’s Tower BFT (Byzantine Fault Tolerance) consensus ensures that the network remains secure and efficient, even under heavy loads.

Koii: Extending Solana’s Capabilities for a Decentralized Future

Amidst these technological advancements, Koii emerges as a key player leveraging Solana’s robust architecture to push the boundaries of what’s possible in Web 3.0. Koii is built on Solana, utilizing its high throughput and low latency to power a decentralized network that rewards users for contributing resources and engaging with content.

Koii’s unique approach to decentralized computation and content delivery aligns perfectly with Solana’s scalability. By incentivizing users to contribute their spare computing resources, Koii not only extends Solana’s capabilities but also democratizes access to digital assets and platforms. This decentralized model challenges traditional profit-driven paradigms, offering a glimpse into a more equitable digital future.

Consider how Koii’s API might be used to integrate decentralized storage within a Solana-powered dApp:

```javascript const koiiWeb3 = require(‘@koii/web3.js’);

async function storeContentOnKoii(data) { let result = await koiiWeb3.storeData(data); console.log(‘Content stored with ID:’, result.id); }

storeContentOnKoii({ title: ‘Web 3.0 Article’, content: ‘Exploring the future of decentralized technologies…’ }); ```

This example demonstrates the seamless integration between Koii and Solana, where developers can store and manage content in a decentralized manner, enhancing the resilience and accessibility of their applications.

The Key Impact of Solana and Koii in Web 3.0

As Web 3.0 continues to evolve, Solana and Koii are at the forefront of driving meaningful change. Solana’s technical advancements, particularly with innovations like Firedancer, provide the necessary infrastructure for building scalable, high-performance dApps. Meanwhile, Koii extends these capabilities, offering a decentralized framework that empowers users and developers alike.

For young developers and Web 3.0 enthusiasts, particularly those in Africa, the opportunities presented by Solana and Koii are immense. As these technologies mature, they offer a pathway to not only participate in the next wave of digital innovation but to lead it. By embracing responsive design, leveraging Solana’s unparalleled scalability, and exploring Koii’s decentralized solutions, developers can create applications that not only perform but also democratize access to digital resources and opportunities.

In conclusion, as we program the future, the unassuming origins of innovations like Solana and Koii will be the catalysts for the next generation of Web 3.0 applications. These technologies promise to emancipate abundance in the digital realm, enabling a more equitable and decentralized internet for all. As with the washing machine, which quietly revolutionized domestic life, Solana and Koii are poised to drive transformative change from the ground up, reshaping how we interact with technology and each other in the process.

Click the link below to be part of Koii Networks’s amazing experience: https://www.koii.network/node?promo=DB2316CCECED&utm_source=tumblr&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_campaign=solflip

[hashishkitties]

this is part one of an unedited spur of the moment ramble on hashish melt and public understanding, after smoking this hash, drinking some vanilla espresso i got for free from a fancy machine in the lobby of an apartment i followed someone into, before going to get fresh litter for the kitties at the house, i wrote this. posting in the target parking lot. idk why i explained that.

————————————————————————

since hash that has been dry sifted is different than hash that has been sieved with water, which are different than rosin and such, they all have different temperature points and smoking methods where they will leave residue on quartz or something, no matter what. that is mainly why rosin is a thing, even though it is just water (a solvent), heat (usually) and pressure, the refinement process is still a lot for the trichome to go through, and it is a pretty thorough and relatively harsh refinement process, even if there may be more harsh processes. since it can be that thorough, but is simple enough and a clean process, it is much easier for someone who is not super skilled or knowledgeable to make decent rosin, that melts the way someone wants a dab to melt. with water hash, matt rize, frenchy, his apprentices, and some other important people who i am uneducated about, have spent a good amount of time testing various processes and finding a more understandable and easier to achieve fullmelt trichome water hash due a more straight-forward process, ease of fragility, live trichomes and such. there are many factors like purity, micron spectrum, properly dried and cured trichomes, genetics, growing factors (light intensity, spectrum, wavelength, nutrient content), terpene profile, cannabanoid ratios, moisture content, maybe temperature it’s grown in, and more. drysifting hash involves more variables from batch to batch due to the nature of how you work with the resin, and the way resin is different from batch to batch, it involves intimate visual detail, processes that are not straight forward (overworking, pushing contaminants through as you grab trichomes, different layers in each static pull, recurring static pulls, going back through contaminated pile material to grab more heads even though you can’t really get it as pure as the first pass (knowing when to stop/not overworking, which differs from just the idea of a second pull on spent material when washing using a machine). the point is, due to the nature of the resin, the dry sifting process, access to starting material, reliance on many slight and intimate details along the way, and more ( i know i say that a lot…it means i don’t know everything and myself as well as other people will always be learning more about this), achieving an end result that resembles water sieved fullmelt trichomes is not always possible, and definitely not straight forward (pressed drysift hash can still act the same as fullmelt water hash though). however, most starting material can be drysifted and refined with static into hash that can fullmelt at a certain temperature range, as long as it is smoked a certain way, getting everything out of the hash as you can at that temperature range. and to bring up the start of this ramble, all things dabable have temperature limits where they will leave residue or stain on the quartz. i feel like the star rating sort of pokes at this, but in a very broad way. having understood (though however, relatively broad) temperature ranges for fullmelt hash or concentrated in their various forms, it at least helps people better understand hash, why it differs from rosin, fullmelt and honey oil, how it can be smoked, enjoyed, thoroughly used and not wasted, stored, made, and (again) such. it this, (along with cheaper, efficient, and more accessible hash pipes) can help people be less reluctant to be open towards seeing what hashish has to offer, and making it more convenient and available for people to enjoy.

[hashatron]

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